


Meant To Be (Or Maybe Just A Dangerous Fantasy)

by Pigzxo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Discussion of Abortion, Drunk Sex, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Making Out, Mpreg, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Past Abortion, Rimming, also i know nothing about football forgive me, and everyone HAS EYES okay they all have eyes it's important, kelly's a big part of this fic but she's not actually in it?, there's just a lot of angst in this... like a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 18:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13552950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigzxo/pseuds/Pigzxo
Summary: Dean and Cas have been best friends their whole lives and despite having an unusual relationship, including having raised Cas' son Jack together, they've never crossed that line. Cas has a boyfriend. Dean's never been one for commitment. But when a drunken night leads to consequences -Dean's pregnantconsequences - their already fraught relationship is thrown for a loop that forces them to face exactly what they want from each other.





	Meant To Be (Or Maybe Just A Dangerous Fantasy)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Rhythm of Your Heart" by Marianas Trench  
> This is written from an anonymous prompt!

Cas shivered as he walked up to the football field. He had a hundred things going through his mind – like the fight with Parker and the bills that were overdue and the seventeen product-destroying disasters that had happened at the supermarket that morning – but he had promised Jack he’d show up for football practice. He had promised Jack seven times because, as Jack liked to point out, that was how many times Cas had broken promises to him in the last year. Sometimes Cas regretted keeping Jack – not because he didn’t love him, not because Kelly wouldn’t have wanted him to, but because he couldn’t give him everything he deserved.

            Cas tried to catch sight of Jack on the field from afar but with all the boys in helmets and pads it was impossible to tell which one was his son. Wrapping his arms tight around him in an effort to stay warm, Cas shuffled forward.

            Sam’s words floated back to him. “...can’t commit, then don’t.”

            There was a deep sigh. “It’s not about commitment.” Dean. Cas looked over at the sound of his voice and felt the familiar tug on his heartstrings, that little voice in his ear begging him to make it work. He tried to shut it down as Dean went on, “It’s about her. She’s cool, yeah. Definitely hot. But I’m not gonna move in with her.”

            Sam hummed noncommittally, giving away that he wasn’t listening. Then he stepped forward and yelled, “Larson! Show us some hustle!”

            Dean rolled his eyes and his gaze landed on Cas. He smiled. Cas tried to stop himself from smiling back but it was a little hard. Dean hadn’t shaved that morning and still looked rough and tired, like he’d only rolled out of bed a few hours ago. But he was wearing his coveralls, grease-splattered and too thin for the bitter September air. And his hair was standing straight up like it did when it got static-y and dry from being in the garage too long.

            “Hey, angel,” Dean said. “You come to see your boy play?”

            Cas rolled his eyes. The nickname had gotten old about two seconds after Dean had given it to him – back in fifth grade when Dean found out he was still an altar boy, despite being just a little too old for it. Cas stepped forward, keeping Sam in between them, and said, “Which one’s Jack?”

            Sam gestured vaguely down the field and then moved in the other direction, shouting, “That is NOT a proper tackle! Do you want to get injured?”

            Dean jerked his chin in the same direction Sam had waved. “Number 12,” he said. “Scrawny kid pushing back the tackle board like it weighs nothing.”

            Cas squinted to read the numbers but found Jack easily when he took a run at one of the heavily weighted dummies and pushed it 20 feet without struggling. He stepped back and raised his arms in the air, bringing in the applause and hollers of his teammates before he took a deep bow. Cas scoffed. “Moron.”.

            “Kid’s really gonna make the other team think twice when he hits them with all that.” Dean tilted his head back and guzzled down Coke from a can.

            Cas glanced his way. “Why the sobriety?”

            Dean flipped him off and then crushed the can against his thigh. “I’m going out tonight.”

            “With who?”

            Both men looked over, surprised, when Jack approached. He wiped the sweat off his face with a towel, a big smile on his face.

            Dean smiled back. “None of your business, twerp.”

            Jack frowned for a second and Cas almost reprimanded Dean for being mean to him – no matter what it looked like, Jack was still a kid. He could hold his own on the football field but he didn’t need Dean, his idol, insulting him openly. But then Jack bounced back – so fast Cas thought he might have imagined the hurt in his face – and said, “Come on. I’m just curious. Let me live vicariously.”

            “Don’t let him live vicariously,” Cas warned.

            Dean shot him a half smile and Cas’ heart skipped an involuntary beat. He tried to shut it down. Even standing this close to Dean was distracting – he was warm and smelled like sweat – but he’d spent too long waiting for Dean to settle down. He’d spent too long being the ignored best friend to give in to the subtle flirting now. Just because Parker was being a dick didn’t mean that Dean finally had come to his senses and realized what a catch Cas was. He hadn’t realized it in high school, or college, or when Cas was dating Kelly, or when Cas _married_ Kelly, or after Kelly’s death, or in the sixteen years since. Cas was done with him, even if he did smell like he’d just had sex in a garage.

            “I’m grabbing drinks with an old friend,” Dean said. “Nothing scandalous.” He put his hands in his pockets and Jack tried to mimic the motion – even though his football pants had no pockets.

            “If it’s an old friend, you should invite my dad. He probably knows them.”

            Cas shot his son a look. He’d been through this before – he’d been through this too many times to count – and every time it came up, it filled him with annoyance and regret. Annoyance that Jack was still on this. Regret that he’d let Dean hang around so much, help out so much, that Jack thought of him as a de-facto dad and wouldn’t give up on him. Even though Cas had given up on Dean before Jack was born.

            Dean laughed. “Oh, no. Your dad and Charlie were only friends out of obligation.”

            “Charlie’s in town?” Cas said.

            Dean shot him a sideways look, his eyes sparkling. “What? Still bitter she tried to steal your wife?”

            “What?” Jack said at the same time Cas said, “At the wedding!”

            Dean laughed.

            Jack smiled nervously, like he wasn’t sure if laughing along would get him in trouble or not.

            “Have fun with Charlie,” Cas said, hoping he sounded like he meant it even if he didn’t. “I can’t come anyways. I have a work thing.”

            “A work thing,” Dean said, mockingly.

            “Yeah, a work thing,” Jack repeated, rolling his eyes.

            Cas shot his son a look. “Shouldn’t you be practicing?”

            Jack shrugged and took a swig from his water bottle. He didn’t make any move to leave until Sam started heading their way again, shouting, “Kline! Get your ass back on the field! What are you doing?” And then Jack was off, sprinting across the field before Sam could reach them. Sam shook his head. “What was that about?”

            “Just the usual.” Dean shrugged. “Kid’s trying to set us up again.”

            Cas felt his whole face go red and he coughed into the sleeve of his coat. He could feel Dean watching him, his eyes on him, and he wanted to die. He felt like a teenager whose crush just called them a brother. He mumbled something into his sleeve – he was pretty sure it was incoherent – and then walked off to watch Jack play some more.

            Behind him, he heard Sam say, “So you’re really gonna dump a girl over that?”

            “She wants _matching keys_ , Sam. _His and hers keys_.”

 

Cas stood in front of the mirror tying and then retying his tie. He hadn’t even switched ties since he had first picked out the blue one but it seemed wrong somehow. Every knot was wrong, even the feel of the silk was wrong.

            “Why are you wearing a tie to this thing?” Parker asked as he walked into the bedroom. He was looking at his feet as he undid his cufflinks and then kicked off his shoes. He glanced over his shoulder at Cas. “Why are you even _going_ to this thing?”

            “It’s a team-building exercise,” Cas said. “And I was the one who suggested it.” He pulled off the tie with a huff, feeling the fabric wring around his neck and slap against his wrist. He looked down at it as he twisted it between his fingers.

            “A tie doesn’t really scream ‘team-building,’ does it?”

            Cas sighed. “I’m the boss. I still have to look like the boss.”

            Parker came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his hips. He pulled him back into him and kissed the side of his neck. When he was like this, when he was happy, Cas almost forgot that he hadn’t had this much time with him in a month. He reached up and carded his fingers through Parker’s hair, pulling him closer, keeping him latched onto his neck.

            “I’m gonna leave a mark,” Parker whispered.

            “Don’t worry about it.” Cas closed his eyes.

            Parker pursed his lips and then pressed his face against Cas’ shoulder. “Do you want me to come?”

            “Do I want you to come to a shitty bar with fifty of my closest coworkers so I can out myself to all of them in one fell swoop?” Cas said, deadpan. “Pass.”

            Parker chuckled. “I don’t get why you don’t just tell them.”

            “I tell them. I tell people.” Cas looked into the mirror, squinting. He tried to figure out what it was his outfit needed. There wasn’t a tie that didn’t work with the classic white button down and black slacks. “I tell them when it comes up. When it seems appropriate. I don’t invite my boyfriend to work-only gatherings and then kiss him when I get too drunk.”

            “Who will you kiss then?” Parker mumbled.

            Cas laughed and turned his head to peck Parker on the cheek. “You, if you’re home when I get back.”

            Parker sighed and stepped away, his fingers slipping from Cas’ hips. Cas immediately felt colder, more alone, even though his boyfriend was still there. “I can’t promise anything,” Parker said. “You know, with these big accounts and all the deadlines coming up.”

            “Yeah. I know.” Cas slipped the tie around his neck again and started to do the knot.

            “Stop.” Parker grabbed onto the fabric and pulled Cas closer. He kissed him on the lips and he tasted like lip gloss and a little bit of wine. Cas frowned. Parker took the tie. “Put on some jeans. I’ll get you another tie. Try not to look like you haven’t been in a bar since college.”

            Cas smirked as him but started to dutifully take off his pants.

 

The bar was loud and dirty – the exact opposite of what Dean had wanted when he’d picked it out. There seemed to be some sort of party going on, what with all the people around who seemed to know each other and think it was appropriate to touch each other and play awful music on the jukebox.

            Charlie didn’t seem to mind though. When her beer came to her with a ring of dust around the rim of the glass, she’d simply brushed it off and said, “It’ll boost my immune system, right?”

            Dean wasn’t sure on the logic of that but he wasn’t going to question it. He’d learned not to question Charlie after she’d moved to Germany to “make it big” and it had worked, somehow. In Germany, she was famous. In Germany, she could barely walk down the street without someone asking for her autograph. He had gone their once to visit her – she’d sent him a ticket – and the whole thing had been like a weird dream or a bad trip.

            Right now, she was in the middle of a story about the TV show she was working on. Something about monkeys or astronauts or monkey astronauts. But Dean was too focused on trying to use all his mental energy to get the stupid party people to shut the fuck up. Was it really that hard not to play Britney Spears on repeat? To keep their voices down? God, Dean felt like such an old man wanting to ruin their fun. But really. Their fun was _Britney Spears_.

            Charlie snapped her fingers in his face. “Hey, dipshit. I did not fly ten hours for you to ignore me, you know.”

            Dean took a sip of his beer. “You flew ten hours to do a hokey comic-con on foreign fandoms. What the fuck do you care if I ignore you?”

            Charlie smiled. “I like to be the centre of attention.”

            Dean almost choked on his beer when he laughed.

            “What’s so interesting over there anyways?” She glanced over her shoulder, scanning the partiers, as if she thought the reason for Dean’s distraction was just going to appear out of thin air. She had a hard time understanding that Dean was always distracted, that he always had a headache, and that he’d seen every episode of the monkey-astronaut show five times by now. Then, “Aah,” she said, “that’s what this is about?”

            Dean gave her a confused look. “That’s what what’s about?”

            Charlie tilted her head to the side. “You’re honestly going to sit there and pretend you having been staring at Cas’ ass for the last twenty minutes?”

            Dean blinked. He looked back at the crowd, scanning the people and their faces and their asses, until he saw what Charlie had determined in seconds. Cas was standing at the bar, mostly turned away from them, nursing a beer like it was Jack at three months old. He had a strained smile on his face like maybe it was fake, maybe he was struggling.

            “I wasn’t,” Dean said, honestly. Then he wondered if he’d been unconsciously ogling Cas’ ass. Like he always saw Cas’ ass, so it was always there, so he didn’t even notice he was staring at it.

            Charlie sighed. “Go. Say hi.”

            Dean wrinkled his brow. “No. I’m here with you. I saw him a few hours ago.”

            “And yet you’re still more interested in him.”

            Dean smirked. “I thought you didn’t want me to crush on lesbians.”

            Charlie flipped him off and then downed the rest of her beer. “Come on. We’re going over.” She started to slide towards the end of the booth.

            Dean reached out a hand to stop her. He touched the crook of her elbow. “Wait. Stop. This is ridiculous.” He gestured vaguely to the party. “He’s obviously busy. And he’s still mad at you for what you did at his wedding.”

            She rolled her eyes. “You make _one_ joke about hooking up with the bride and suddenly you’re the bad guy. Plus, I did that for you. I get the bride, you get the groom. Win-win.”

            “Not this again.”

            “You’ve been in love with him probably since you’ve had eyes. I have eyes, so I’m a little in love with him. But the difference is, I fucked it up on purpose. You fucked it up because you’re a commitment-phobe who didn’t want to ruin a friendship.”

            Dean shook his head. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

            Charlie shrugged. “Maybe it’s not. Maybe you did the right thing letting him go, not fucking him for sport, staying his friend, picking up the pieces of his broken life. But you never got the fuck over him. So while he might not be getting hurt anymore, you still are. Every single damn time you look at him.”

            Dean swallowed hard. His eyes flicked towards Cas. “He has a boyfriend.”

            Charlie shrugged. “Commitments are made to be broken.” She slid out of the booth before Dean could stop her. Before he was on his feet, she had Cas’ attention. And by the time he reached the two of them, she had him in a big bear hug.

 

Dean looked good cleaned up. Not that he was cleaned up. He still hadn’t shaved and the soap smell wasn’t completely covering the sweat smell or the grease. But the army green button down he had on made his eyes pop and Cas found himself getting lost in them, or tracing the curve of Dean’s lips as he talked, or watching his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed. Cas was perhaps a lot drunker than he’d originally thought.

            Charlie took over the conversation, rambling as usual, and Cas kept looking at Dean. Part of his brain was aware he should stop. Stop looking at Dean, stop drinking, just stop altogether maybe. Press pause on the world turning and revaluate his life choices. But it was hard when Dean had a scar down the middle of his bottom lip, like he’d bitten it right open, and Cas kept wondering if he could bite it open himself.

            When Charlie excused herself to the bathroom, Dean sidled up closer to him and laid a hand on his arm. He said, “What are you drinking?”

            “Beer,” Cas said, looking down at his mostly empty glass. He should stop. This was his second and he was supposed to drive home.

            Dean traced his finger down the inside of Cas’ arm, sending shivers all through his body. “What kind of beer?”

            “You know,” Cas said.

            “Oh, that honey shit you like.”

            Cas tried to smile when Dean laughed but he could have sworn someone put something in his drink. Did Dean always look like this? Was he always so beautiful? Cas felt himself sway forward and was suddenly aware that Dean had sat down on a barstool. When had he done that? Now that Cas was closer, he towered over him, and Dean had to look up to meet his eyes. That little smirk on his lips lit up his whole face.

            Dean reached out and pressed a palm against Cas’ stomach. Maybe to keep him steady, maybe for another reason. “Maybe you shouldn’t have another,” Dean said.

            “Maybe I should,” Cas replied. Was he imagining it or was Dean’s thumb rubbing against the buttons of his shirt?

            Dean sighed and the smile dropped right off his face. He took his hand back and rubbed it down his face, suddenly looking anywhere but Cas. “This is all Charlie’s fault,” he muttered as he flung a few bills onto the bar. He got to his feet. “You have a good night, Cas.”

            Cas reached out and grabbed his arm. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Maybe he was thinking that Dean didn’t walk away often, that Dean had never walked away from him. He pulled him back and said, “Stay.” Then, because that seemed a little scary and personal, he added, “I’m the boss. These people don’t want to be out with me. If you leave, I’ll be bored out of my mind.”

            “You could leave,” Dean said.

            Cas stared at him.

            “I can’t do this with you, Cas.” Dean turned back to him, stumbling a little on his feet. One of his hands reached up and cupped Cas’ cheek. “I’ve been really fucking good about not doing this with you.” When his head tilted forward, Cas could smell the alcohol on his breath, hear the tremble in his words.

            “Doing what?” Cas asked.

            Dean smiled. “What do you think?”

            He made to step back but Cas grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward. He crushed their lips together, getting more teeth than lips, but he didn’t let it deter him. He just pulled on Dean more, stumbling back a few steps, and kissed him like his life depended on it. Kissed him like he’d never kiss him again.

            He hit the bar and Dean’s hands came down around him, his hips pushing forward. He kissed back like Cas always thought he would – wild, reckless, dangerous – and pushed a hand up under Cas’ shirt. His fingers were warm, sweaty. Cas turned his head and buried it into the crook of Dean’s neck, inhaling his scent, forcing himself to breathe as Dean rutted against his hip and sucked on his neck.

            Cas spared a thought – one thought – to where they were. “This might be a little public,” he whispered.

            Dean sighed. The breath tickled Cas’ skin and he wanted nothing more than to take his words back. Dean could fuck him against the bar if he wanted to, all his coworkers be damned.

            Then Dean pulled off, his eyes glassy and his lips bitten-red. He flicked his gaze over Cas’ body and Cas stood still, wondering, waiting. He half expected Dean to determine he wasn’t good enough for a one-night-stand, wasn’t the material Dean needed for future wanking sessions. But then he tucked his fingers through Cas’ belt loops and tugged him forward. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

Dean hadn’t taken the subway home from a bar since he was in college. He either went to the bars close to his house or didn’t drink enough to have to worry about not being able to drive. He wasn’t sure he was too drunk to drive now. But driving meant keeping his hands off Cas, meant keeping his eyes on the road, meant he had to stay focused on something other than the beautiful man in front of him.

            Okay, so making out on the subway wasn’t Dean’s best idea. People kept telling them to get a room, there was more than one disgusted sound of disapproval, and everything about it was uncomfortable. Dean didn’t really care. He just kept pressing Cas back against the wall, trying to tuck himself completely into his embrace as he kissed his lips, his cheeks, his neck. He kept one hand on his hip, pinning him down, because he was a little afraid Cas wanted to get away.

            “Dean,” Cas mumbled after what felt like forever, what felt like ten seconds.

            “Yeah, baby?” Dean whispered, biting his earlobe.

            Cas groaned against him and then whined, his hips pushing upwards. Dean could feel the start of his erection and he wanted to touch it, to taste it, to have it in him. He wondered how many times Cas could get it up in a night. If Cas would stay over the weekend and do nothing but fuck him senseless.

            “We missed the stop.”

            Dean looked up. Doing it felt a little like stopping himself from breathing. And sure enough, they were racing away from the stop closest to his house and onto the next one. “Damn it,” Dean whispered.

            Cas latched onto his neck, laying bruising kisses along his jaw line. “We’ll just get off at the next one,” he mumbled. “Walk back.”

            “And how will we do this while walking?”

            “We’ll think of something.” Cas coaxed their lips back together and pulled Dean in by the back of his neck.

            They missed the next two stops and barely managed to stumble out already-closing doors at the third. Dean swore and looked up at the train schedule. The next one going the other way wasn’t coming for a good eight minutes and he had half a hard-on and a raging need to get it over with. If he fucked Cas now, he could go through with it. If he waited eight minutes? The twenty minute ride home? The five minute walk to his apartment? That was thirty-three minutes to rethink this terrible decision. To think that Cas had a boyfriend. To sober up. To remember he didn’t do this to Cas, he wasn’t this person to Cas, he didn’t deserve Cas.

            “Hey,” Cas whispered. He hooked his fingers into the back pocket of Dean’s jeans and pulled him back a few steps. “What’s wrong?”

            Dean turned his head to look at Cas. Maybe he didn’t want to do this as badly as he thought he did. Maybe there was a reason it had taken them thirty years of friendship to get to this point.

            Cas laid a hand against his cheek and then pressed their foreheads together. “Are you alright? Is this... alright?”

            Dean wanted to laugh. Cas was so drunk he could barely stand upright without some sort of support – hence his lips being two inches away all the time – and he was asking if Dean was okay. Dean who could feel the buzz of alcohol leaving, feel the familiar heaviness entering his limbs, feel the false high dissipate into his usual sadness. He ran a thumb across Cas’ bottom lip.

            “I don’t think you’re sober enough to make this decision,” Dean whispered.

            Cas kissed him. “Dean, I’m just drunk enough to make this decision.”

            Dean laughed. “Too drunk.”

            “No.” Cas smiled at him. “No, I’ve wanted this since... since, god, since I knew I wanted things like this. Since eighth grade when you would suck on pencils in class and I would stare at you the whole time. Since tenth grade when you joined the football team and would come into the locker room sweaty and shirtless and in spandex fucking shorts and just stand there and talk to me while I tried to get dressed for first period gym. Goddammit Dean, do you have any idea how hard it was not to get a boner? It was literal torture.”

            Dean laughed.

            Cas kissed him again, longer, sweeter. “I wanted you in college, when you brought home those girls every night. You used to joke about threesomes constantly and I would... I would imagine saying yes instead of brushing you off.” He licked his bottom lip. Dean couldn’t stop staring at him, couldn’t stop his heart from swelling. Cas added, “Then you came out. And I was already married. And it felt like some sick joke.”

            “Cas...”

            Cas shook his head, looked down. “I get it. I’m not the type you usually go for. You’re not a one man guy. It’s fine.” His eyes glistened when he looked back up and his smile was weak. “Just let me have this.”

            Dean stared at him for a long moment, so long that his vision went blurry and Cas’ eyes started to become one before him. He blinked hard. “Cas, if I was a one man guy, it’d be for you.”

            Cas kissed him and suddenly it didn’t feel like such a big deal that they’d missed all those stops, that they might miss the next train if they kept kissing like this, like they had to wait. Dean had waited this long. He had made himself wait this long. And if he had to blame alcohol and bad decisions to get the one thing he wanted, fine. He could brush it all off if he had to. He could forget it all in the morning. Maybe Cas wouldn’t even stay the night. It was fine, totally fine, as long as Cas’ tongue stayed in his mouth and his hands wandered to his ass and they kept finding walls Dean could push him up against. The subway wall was cool and hard and brick but Cas barely made a noise when Dean shoved him up against it, when he gripped his hair and kissed him so hard he tasted blood.

            “I can’t wait,” Cas mumbled. Or at least that’s what Dean thought he said.

            Dean reached his hands down between them, fingers fumbling with Cas’ belt buckle. He felt adrenaline rush through his veins. Yes, he was definitely going to get arrested for this. No, he didn’t really care.

            “I meant...” Cas began. Dean sunk to his knees and pressed his face into Cas’ crotch. Cas whimpered. “A hotel. We could go... to a hotel.”

            Dean kissed up the length of his hardening cock, careful to keep fabric between their skin. He pressed one hand into Cas’ hip, holding him steady as he inhaled his scent. He sucked at the head through the fabric of Cas’ jeans, then pulled down the zipper and pressed his face to Cas’ boxers. He rubbed his nose across his cock, ghosted his lips along its length. He could feel Cas whimpering more than hear him, felt every tremble between his fingertips.

            “You really want that?” Dean whispered. He moved one hand into Cas’ boxers, cupping his balls and feeling the warmth of him. Dean could hear his own heart pounding. He leaned his forehead against Cas’ stomach, tried to steady his breathing as he took Cas’ cock in his hand. “You want a hotel?”

            Cas let out a broken, desperate, sobbing laugh. “I want you to do anything you want to me right fucking here but if we don’t move this to a hotel, we’ll be arrested before that happens.”

            Dean didn’t mind the arrested part. He did mind the part where he got separated from Cas before the main event. With a sigh, he took his hand out of Cas’ boxers and made his way slowly to his feet. He ghosted his lips over Cas’ belly for as long as he could before his shirt fell down and Dean was upright.

            Cas made quick work of tucking himself back into his jeans. As he stepped away from the wall, Dean made a move to put an arm around him. Cas dodged it and said, “Don’t touch me. Or we will spend the night in jail.”

 

The motel was the dirtiest place Cas had ever stepped foot in. When he whispered this to Dean, Dean laughed at him. So Cas shut up, swallowed his urge to ask they find somewhere else to spend the night, and waited nervously while Dean got the keys. The alcohol was starting to wear off and the realization that this wasn’t just a bad idea but a _very_ bad idea was sweeping over Cas in waves. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and bounced on the balls of his feet.

            Dean turned back to him with a smile. “Ready, babe?”

            Cas felt the nickname go straight to his dick. He kind of never wanted Dean to call him anything else ever again. He nodded. Bad idea or not, he was already there. He wanted this. And he could back out now, be the good guy one more time, or he could do something he really wanted to do and blame it all on the alcohol in the morning.

            They resisted the urge to make-out in the elevator. There was a foot of space between them that Cas suddenly felt like he couldn’t cross, like he didn’t have the guts to step over. Dean opened the door to their room and a musty smell wafted out. Cas really hoped he didn’t get an infection from this. That would be a lot harder to explain than the bruises on his hips.

            He stepped inside and swallowed hard. Looking around the room, there really was only one reason to get a room here. There was no TV. No desk. No armchair with a little footstool. There was just a double bed with yellow-white sheets and thin comforter. The lamp on the bedside table didn’t even have a bulb in it.

            He heard the door shut behind him. He turned to Dean, ready to bite the bullet and tell him this was a horrible decision. But Dean kissed him before he got the words out. And nothing about kissing Dean could ever be a horrible decision because his lips tasted like alcohol and medicated chapstick, like spit and sweat and _him_.

            Dean pushed him back, his fingers already working at his zipper. He kissed and moved and felt him up roughly, quickly, like he was afraid Cas would pull away at any second and this would never happen. Even well it was happening, it felt like it would never happen to Cas. This was a fever dream or a cruel joke or a hallucination. It wasn’t Dean’s lips on his neck and his hands pulling down his pants and Dean sinking to his knees as he pushed him back onto the bed.

            Cas landed with a squeal of the springs but he couldn’t be bothered to worry about the bed collapsing for too long. Dean had his lips on his inner thighs, taking his sweet time sucking and biting at the skin there as his hands caressed Cas’ calves. Cas whined and tried to sit up, but then Dean’s hand was on his hip, coaxing him back down.

            Cas bit his lip and closed his eyes. Dean’s hand crept up under his thigh, moving forward to grab his ass. He kissed his cock, tongue flicking out to lick long lines over his sensitive skin. His nails bit into Cas’ butt as he sucked at the head of his dick, swirling his tongue and taking his sweet damn time. Cas wondered why. The bedsprings creaked and Cas realized Dean was humping the bed as he worked, his lips making their way up the length of his hardening cock.

            Dean’s other hand rolled his balls and Cas let out a loud moan. He bucked up into Dean’s mouth and Dean didn’t flinch. He moaned. The sound rumbled through Cas’ body, making him feel like he was on fire. Experimentally, he tried to sit up and Dean let him. He shifted forward and Dean didn’t shift back. He looked up at him, eyes wide, almost begging. When Cas didn’t move, he gripped his ass in both hands and moved him forward.

            Cas gasped and reached out to grab onto Dean’s hair. He pulled it a bit and Dean moaned and Cas groaned in return. Then, closing his eyes and trying to forget years of lectures on why this was dangerous, he thrust his hips forward into Dean’s mouth. Dean leaned into the motion so Cas did it again and again and again until he was setting a punishing pace. He let his grip on Dean loosen, carded his fingers through his hair and moved them to his cheek. He could feel his dick there, pounding into the back of Dean’s throat as every muscle in his body tightened. Dean continued to move his tongue and hollow out his cheeks despite the fact that Cas was quickly losing control, his thrusts becoming erratic and too hard. Dean’s nails dug into his ass, urging him on, and Cas had only a second to spare to think about what it meant if he blew his load when his orgasm snuck up on him. All his muscles tensed and then relaxed, come spurting down Dean’s throat.

            Dean finally backed off a little but he swallowed it down dutifully. Some of it dripped out his mouth and he licked it up with his tongue. Then, before Cas could say a word, he bent down and licked the rest of it off Cas’ flaccid dick.

            “Dean, fuck,” Cas whispered. He reached out and brushed his hand through his hair even as he continued to lick up the mess. Cas felt like curling right around him, pulling him into some perverse parody of a hug. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

            “Why?” Dean whispered. He looked up and Cas lost his breath.

            Cas leaned down and kissed him. Placing a hand on the back of his neck, he pulled Dean forward as he leaned back onto the bed. As Dean crawled forward, Cas crept a hand down his chest and cupped it around his cock. He was hard in Cas’ hand, so hard even the touch of his fingers made Dean whine.

            “Shh,” Cas whispered. He lay kisses up Dean’s jaw and murmured in his ear, “I’ll take care of you.”

            He rubbed his fingers over Dean’s crotch and he bucked up into him. Cas thought that might be enough for him, just rutting into his hand like an over-sexed teenager. Cas wondered what it would feel like to have his come leak through his jeans and onto his fingers.

            He rolled Dean onto his back, pulled up his own pants, and clambered over Dean. Dean looked up at him with wide eyes, curious and questioning. Cas brought his hands down on his cheeks to feel the stubble in his palms, to brush a thumb over his swollen lips. Then, slowly, he lowered himself onto Dean’s clothed cock and brushed his covered ass over Dean’s erection. Dean let out a sound that was half moan, half scream and Cas instinctively moved his hand up to cover it.

            Dean wrapped his lips around Cas’ fingers, sucking and shaking. His hips bucked upwards and Cas applied more pressure, revelling in the feeling of Dean rubbing against him. When he was sure Dean had control of himself, he slid his fingers out of his mouth and pressed his hand down on Dean’s shoulder instead.

            “I fucking...” Dean took a deep breath as the words shook over his tongue. “I fucking hate dry-humping.”

            Cas laughed. “It’s hard to tell.”

            “It’s so much... so much fucking worse than the real thing.”

            Cas hummed and circled his hips a little, loving the way Dean swallowed his moans. “It’s effective, though.”

            “Effective and such a waste,” Dean grumbled. “What are we? Teenagers? Just... _fuck_.” He bit into his bottom lip and the scar ripped open, sending a dribble of blood across his lip. Cas caught his breath and pressed down, feeling Dean’s cock against him. He closed his eyes against the urge to get it all over with. “Just fuck me,” Dean breathed out.

            Cas opened his eyes in surprise. He stopped moving and the breath that Dean let out was almost a sob. “Fuck you?” Cas echoed stupidly.

            “Yes, fuck me,” Dean said, sounding more annoyed than horny as the seconds passed. “What the fuck did you think we were coming here to do?”

            “I just thought... I...” Cas swallowed nervously. He looked away from Dean’s face, his eyes trailing down his body. He had opened a few buttons on his shirt, enough to see his smooth pecs, and the button of his jeans were open, but otherwise, he was still fully clothed. Cas spared a moment of thought for how much his erection must hurt in those tight jeans. “You... bottom?”

            Dean rolled his eyes and bucked up his hips. Cas nearly lost his balance but got the hint: conversation or not, he needed to keep moving his hips. But even when he did, Dean didn’t stop thrusting upwards and even moved a hand to Cas’ hips. His eyes fluttered half-closed.

            “Dean?” Cas prompted, barely making it through the single syllable. He could feel himself starting to get hard again, his ass burning. “Bottoming?”

            “I bottom,” Dean said. “I like it. But whatever. If you don’t like topping, I’ll fuck you. You fuck me, I fuck you, I don’t fucking care just...” He let out a long, low whine like a boiling tea kettle. “ _Please_.”

            Cas shifted so he was sitting on Dean’s thighs instead. He undid the button on his jeans, then the zipper, and tucked his hand inside Dean’s boxers. He had barely brushed his fingers over Dean’s cock when he blew his load.

            “Fuck,” Dean whispered. His whole body was trembling.

            Cas rubbed his weak erection against Dean’s thigh, feeling his come spreading through his fingers as he stroked him through his climax. Dean whined but didn’t push his hand away when it had finished, made no move to stop him at all. So Cas kept going, twisting his fingers around Dean’s cock, letting Dean ride through the aftershocks with cut-off moans.

            “Did we decide?” Dean asked when he finally reached to move Cas’ hand away. He looked up at him as he licked his lips and Cas wondered how he could look so good like that – still clothed, sweaty and sexed, like someone had fucked him with all his clothes on. Which, Cas supposed, he had.

            “Decide what?” Cas said.

            “Who’s fucking who,” Dean said, groaning like this was the most boring conversation he had in his life. He sat up and started tugging off his pants and underwear.

            Cas realized he hadn’t actually seen Dean’s cock yet. But even post-orgasm, it was fantastic. Thick and a good length. He wanted it in his mouth, in his hand, in his ass, wherever he could have it. Dean’s pants hit the floor with a _whack_.

            “So?” Dean prompted.

            Cas looked back up at him and felt himself start to blush at being caught. Not that it mattered right now but Cas had spent too many years trying not to get caught looking at Dean that looking unashamedly now felt wrong.

            “I’ll fuck you,” Cas said because he wanted to see every one of Dean’s muscles working, because he didn’t want to have to think past thrusting his hips. He felt himself get a little harder just thinking about entering Dean. “Fuck,” he whispered.

            Dean smiled at him and suddenly the whole situation felt a lot more real. There was Dean’s patented smirk, the one he had on whenever he was about to make fun of him. But instead of saying anything, Dean leaned forward and kissed him. “You ready to go yet?” he murmured against his lips.

            Cas chuckled. “You just came.”

            “Wring it out of me again,” Dean whispered. “Do it all fucking night if you want.”

            Cas whined against his lips. Dean shifted onto his knees and cupped Cas’ face in his hands as he kissed him. Then, slowly, he started to undo the buttons of his shirt. Cas shifted into his touch and let his hands wander under Dean’s shirt. His cock rubbed against the V of Dean’s hip and he moaned into the kiss. Dean grabbed his ass and pulled him closer, encouraging him as he one-handedly pushed off Cas’ shirt.

            Cas bit down onto Dean’s shoulder as he rutted against him. He did his best to get his shirt off, but his hands were trembling. Dean’s fingers came down over Cas’ and helped with the buttons. He shrugged his shirt off and Cas let his fingers fall against Dean’s abs, over his pecs, down his sides. He groaned at the feel of him.

            Dean dipped his hands under the waistband of Cas’ jeans and pulled them down. Cas shifted enough to get them down and then broke their embrace to pull them off the rest of the way. Before they even hit the floor, Dean was pulling him back, kissing his shoulders and his neck. Cas’ hard cock rubbed against Dean’s stomach and he muffled a groan as he pressed into the sensation, wondering if he could get off by fucking Dean’s abs.

            “Wait,” Dean said. He shifted back a bit and then took Cas’ cock in his hand. He moved a bit more, adjusting, and then took them both in his hand. Cas gasped as his dick rubbed against Dean’s, as Dean’s fingers skidded along both their lengths. He added his own hand to the mix, curling his fingers over Dean’s, trying to get him to move faster, rougher. He could barely catch his breath.

            Then Dean kissed him, swirling their tongues together. Cas could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He kind of felt like he was going to die.

            “Stop,” Cas whispered. He squeezed Dean’s fingers with his own, trying to swallow the whimper in his throat.

            Dean cupped his chin in a hand and tilted it up so he could look at him. His eyes were so green, so much greener than Cas had ever realized, and he felt like he had spent a lot of time trying to categorize the colour of Dean’s eyes. Green didn’t quite cover it.

            “What’s wrong, babe?”

            “Nothing’s wrong.” Cas almost laughed at the thought. He wanted to kiss the worry off Dean’s lips, away from the wrinkles under his eyes. “I’m just gonna come again if we keep this up. And I kinda thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

            Dean smiled. “Do I really have that much of an effect on you?”

            “You have no fucking clue.”

            Dean kissed him and Cas sunk into the softness of it. He didn’t speed it up or slow it down. Somehow it felt like they were getting in all the kisses they’d missed over the years tonight. This one, this one must have been that mistletoe in Cas’ first apartment with Kelly. The subway was all those drunken nights wandering home in college. The bar was when they’d snuck out at sixteen with fake IDs and wound up in jail, waiting for their parents to get out of bed and pick them up.

            Dean pulled away and licked his lips. Both his hands cradled Cas’ face. “Where do you want me?” he said.

            Cas’ brain almost short-circuited at those words but he forced it to keep working. “Do you have any lube?”

            “Somewhere,” Dean said. “My wallet, maybe.”

            Cas slipped off the bed. The cold of the motel room overcame him without Dean touching him and he suddenly felt sticky and silly and like the whole world was revolving without them. He stumbled towards Dean’s jeans and pulled out his wallet, started flicking through the cards and bills and receipts.

            Dean shifted on the bed – the springs gave him away – and he kissed Cas’ back. He started to flutter his lips down his spine and Cas felt himself shaking. His fingers slipped, snapping everything back into the overstuffed space.

            “I can’t find it,” Cas said.

            “Give it to me.” But instead of waiting, Dean wrapped his arms over Cas’ shoulders and grabbed the wallet out of his hands. For a second, his naked body pressed up against Cas’ back and his weight hung off his shoulders. Then he was gone.

            Cas turned to see him flopping back on the bed, tossing things out of his wallet at random. “You’re gonna need those cards later,” Cas said.

            “But not now.”

            Cas sat down on the end of the bed, watching.

            Dean pulled out a plastic packet of travel lube – he had _travel lube_ – and smiled. He flicked it at Cas. “Where do you want me?” he repeated.

            Cas wanted Dean everywhere, in every position, all night long. But he was sure this erection was the last one in him and that he’d only get to do this once. “All fours,” he said. He stood up as Dean shifted into position and pushed his ass into the air.

            Cas took a deep breath. He ripped open the packet and spread the lube onto his fingers before stepping forward and spreading Dean’s cheeks. With just one finger, Dean shifted but made no noise. Cas added a second finger. Then, with little struggle, a third.

            “Shit,” Cas said. “Do you even need lube?”

            Dean laughed. “I do like to be warmed up a bit.”

            Cas curled his fingers and Dean groaned. “You already feel warmed up.”

            Dean leaned forward, pressing his face into a pillow as he whimpered. Cas shifted up onto the bed and pushed his fingers in further, looking for room or friction. He pressed a kiss to the base of Dean’s spine and then, in a bout of inspiration, lowered his kisses down the crack of his ass.

            Dean moaned as Cas swirled his tongue around the rim of his hole. He felt Dean buck back into him so he moved his other hand to steady him. Slipping out two fingers, he pressed his tongue against the hole and then dipped it in, moving his finger along with it. A groan shuddered through Dean’s body and Cas gripped his hip harder as he pushed his tongue along the rim and buried his face in Dean’s ass.

            “I’m ready,” Dean managed.

            Cas chuckled. He licked his lips as he came up and pressed a wet kiss to Dean’s ass. Then he dragged his teeth against the warm flesh and relished the way Dean whimpered. “Are you sure, sweetie?” Cas said, soft. “I wouldn’t want to do it without warming you up properly. Are you sure you don’t want to—” He was cut off by Dean moaning when he twisted his fingers.

            “Okay, baby,” Cas whispered. He pulled his fingers out and shifted to be squarely behind Dean. He stroked his ass with one hand, resisting the urge to slap it or bite it. He rubbed his cock up the crack of Dean’s ass, biting his lip to resist groaning.

            “Do it,” Dean snapped.

            “Patience.”

            “I’m not a fucking doctor, just fuck me.”

            Cas exhaled a laugh and lined himself up. With one last, steadying breath, he pushed inside. He almost lost it the moment their skin touched and again when he felt Dean squeeze around him. He hissed out his breath, let his hand slide up the length of Dean’s spine as he pushed in. He kept his pace slow, his eyes closed, afraid if he moved too fast it would all be over in seconds and Cas wanted to remember this moment for the rest of his life. He wanted this moment to last for the rest of his life.

            Then Dean shifted backwards, slamming Cas fully into him and he groaned.

            “Fuck,” Cas bit out, tasting blood on his tongue from where he’d bitten it. He grasped Dean’s hip, not kindly, and kept him steady for a moment as shockwaves rolled through his body. “Don’t do that.”

            “Then do _something_ ,” Dean bit back.

            Cas reached around with his other hand to stroke Dean’s cock. Dean whimpered at his touch and tried to thrust into it, but Cas held his hip steady. Damn him if Dean moved on his own for the rest of the night. When Cas’ breath had steadied and Dean was damn near a puddle, rock hard in Cas’ hand, Cas pulled back and thrust forward. He felt all the breath leave Dean’s body.

            He started slow – his thrusts regular and steady – and sped up at a reasonable pace. He squeezed the base of Dean’s cock whenever he got too close. Dean’s groans and whimpers wet the pillow at his lips, the sheets going dark around his mouth. Even as he melted, he squeezed his muscles around Cas’ cock, bucked back into him whenever he felt Cas’ fingers loosening at his hip. And Cas could feel himself slowly, surely, losing control as he watched Dean’s muscles ripple and relax.

            When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he started to thrust faster. The slap of skin against skin filled the air and Dean came easily, quickly, his come spread over Cas’ fingers. Cas spread it up the length of his abs and then squeezed his ass, still thrusting harder and faster as Dean tried to wring his orgasm out of him. He felt himself spiralling out of control, sweat making his hair fall into his eyes.

            When he came, he felt his whole body go limp and sated. He curled over Dean’s back, stroking his sides as his release left him. He kissed down his spine before sitting up and pulling out, sighing as fatigue washed over him. Dean slipped down so he was lying on the bed, breathing heavily, the pillow still half in his mouth.

            Cas lay down beside him on his belly, looked at Dean’s face. Dean’s eyes were closed as air heaved through his body, making the bedsprings give off their last, dying squeaks. Cas reached forward and cupped his cheek, feeling the stubble prickle his palm.

            “We need to get up,” Cas whispered.

            Dean groaned. “We have the room for the night.”

            Cas laughed. “No. I mean we need to shower.”

            Dean shook his head into the pillow.

            Cas couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t make his mouth close. He shook Dean’s shoulder. “Can’t you feel all that come drying? Isn’t that really gross to you?”

            “No,” Dean mumbled. “I like it.”

            “You have to shower.”

            Dean groaned and pressed his whole face into the pillow. Cas brushed his fingers through his hair, patient, waiting. He pressed his lips to Dean’s shoulder.

            Dean lifted his face and one green eye peeked out at Cas. “You’ll shower with me?”

            “I’ll shower with you,” Cas agreed.

 

Cas closed his eyes tighter against the sunlight shining through the thin curtains. Then, squinting, he slowly opened them to see the man in front of him. The man who was definitely not his boyfriend. Dean Winchester, fast asleep, a slight smile on his lips, his stubble starting to grow into a thin beard.

            Cas wrapped their legs tighter together for an instant. He was afraid to blink. He wanted to memorize this – the warm bed and their entangled bodies and the soft look on Dean’s face. He wanted to pretend he could wake up to this every morning, wanted to memorize the image so he could remember it every morning and pretend. He reached his hand forward and caressed Dean’s cheek, brushed his thumb over his bottom lip.

            Dean grumbled, shifted, but didn’t stir.

            Cas bit down on all the feelings swelling in his belly, on the sadness clogging his throat. Then, slowly, he shifted out of Dean’s embrace and started the cold work of searching for his clothes. His thoughts whirled as he tried to come up with an excuse to tell Parker about why he had been out all night, why his clothes were wrinkled, why he didn’t come home before he went to work. Home was in the opposite direction of work at this point and he had spare clothes in his office.

            As he did up the last few buttons on his shirt, Dean groaned and rolled over on the bed. He blinked open his eyes and slowly focused on Cas. “Where are you going?”

            “Work.”

            “Aah.” Dean pushed himself into a sitting position and waggled his eyebrows. “You don’t wanna stay for round two?”

            Cas smiled at him. “More like round three.”

            Dean smiled back and Cas felt that familiar tug on his heartstrings. He looked away as he shuffled into his shoes and turned around to sit on the end of the bed as he tied his laces. Taking a deep breath, he said, “We’re okay, right?”

            Dean yawned and the bedsprings squealed as he got to his feet. “Why wouldn’t we be okay?”

            Cas shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re not exactly friends with benefits.” He spared a glance towards Dean and wished the other man didn’t look so confused. It was probably just early. Dean got it, Dean had to get it. Dean was the reason it had to be this way. “It’s not going to be weird now?”

            “Why would it be weird?”

            Cas sighed. He looked back down at his tied shoes. “ _Because_ ,” he said. He really wished Dean didn’t have an insatiable urge to make everything difficult. Cas got to his feet and turned to face Dean. “This was a mistake. A onetime thing. A stupid, drunken night. And I don’t want it to ruin our friendship.”

            Dean stared at him for a moment, his eyes wide and blank, and Cas thought he saw something like hurt flash through them. Then he chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. His armpit hair was wild even though the rest of him was smooth and Cas still wanted to lick his abs, press kisses into his neck. He was surprised, looking at him, by how many bruises he’d left the night before, by the yellow-brown indent of his fingers around Dean’s hips.

            “Cas, if my friendships were ruined every time I fucked someone, I would have no friends to speak of.” He shook his head and took a step forward. He pressed a wet, meaningless kiss against Cas’ cheek and then slapped it for good measure. “We’re fine.”

            Cas looked into his eyes. He watched his smile. He saw nothing wrong.

            “Go to work,” Dean said, stepping back. “I have to clean up all this shit anyways.”

            Cas didn’t move. He watched Dean bend over, told himself he wasn’t appreciating his ass one last time. Then, “Okay,” he said. He patted his back pocket to make sure his wallet was still there and headed for the door. Only once he was on the other side of it did he realize he should have showered again, freshened up, gone to the bathroom. But knocking didn’t seem like an option anymore, so he walked away.

 

Dean sunk to the ground as soon as Cas left. The motel carpet was itchy and had that distinct feel of something unwashed but he couldn’t bring himself to stand up. His legs felt weak, shaky, like he’d been fucked seconds ago instead of hours. He scrubbed his hand down his face.

            Of course he’d known it was a onetime thing. Of course he’d realized they weren’t friends with benefits. He wasn’t a fucking idiot. He didn’t entertain romantic notions of marrying Cas and having his kids. He hadn’t thought this would change everything, change both their lives, that one drunken night was worth throwing away everything for. He didn’t.

            Of course he did.

            Dean tried not to remember the things Cas had said about him, about wanting him for so long. He tried not to let them run through his mind, not to wonder how Cas could want him so much but not want to be with him. But that was who he was, wasn’t it? Always the one-night-stand, never the bride. Fuck him. And fuck his brain for thinking this was the exception.

            After a long few minutes, Dean hoisted himself to his feet. He took a hot shower and brushed his teeth with some toothpaste that looked like it’d been left behind a decade ago. He got his clothes back on, picked up the contents of his wallet, and checked under the bed for good measure. When he was sure the room was clean – or, at least, empty of his stuff – he left the key on the bedside table and walked out the door.

            He didn’t talk to anyone all day. He ignored Charlie’s texts asking where he’d been, if he was dead, if he’d finally fucked Cas. She was livid he’d left her in the bar – she’d been in the bathroom for three minutes, was he really that horny? – but more curious about what he’d gotten up to. He ignored Sam’s call and subsequent text asking if he was coming over for dinner that night. The last thing Dean wanted to see now was Sam and Jess and their happy fucking family. Knowing their Saturday night dinners, his parents would probably be there as well and he might just burst into tears if they asked him if he was seeing anyone. Not that Dean cried. He didn’t cry. And he ignored all his coworkers at the garage, going so far as to simply raise his eyebrows at his boss when she asked if he was done on the Camaro. It was in fifty fucking bazillion pieces still – of course he wasn’t done.

            Just as he rolled into bed for the night, his phone lit up with another text. He sighed, ready to finally tell Charlie to fuck off, when he realized it was from Cas. It said: _were you avoiding me today_

            Dean wrinkled his face. It wasn’t hard not to see Cas all day long – guy had a kid and a boyfriend and a fulltime job and – _oh_. Fucking grocery shopping. Dean forgot he went grocery shopping on Saturdays. He texted back: _busy at work. didn’t have the time_

And then he stared at his phone for a very long time before remembering Cas rarely replied to texts that didn’t need replies. He locked his phone and rolled his face into his pillow, praying he wouldn’t dream of Cas.

            He dreamed of Cas.

            He dreamed Cas was touching him, kissing him, whispering promises into his ears. He dreamed they would wake up together in the morning, make breakfast, send the kids off to school. He woke up a hundred times in the night and finally gave up on sleep around five a.m.

            Days passed. He inevitably ran into Cas and managed to keep his cool, to not act like he’d been fantasizing about their life together for days. He smirked and made jokes and called Cas _babe_ instead of _angel_ and watched him blush everywhere. He punched him in the arm and walked away, always walked away too fast, always made it feel awkward. It was the best he could do, the best he could manage, and he could feel Cas staring after him every time like _I thought you said this wouldn’t be a problem_.

            Then Dean got sick. And he was smart enough to know the difference between sick and _sick_. So he went out of his way to a different grocery store and covered the pregnancy test in bags and bags of gummy candy which really felt like more of an admission that anything else. He avoided the cashiers in favour of the self-checkout and made his way home. He locked himself in his bathroom like he thought someone else might come in, someone else might see.

            He peed on the stick and he waited.

            He waited longer than he needed to. He left the bathroom. He made popcorn. He watched a whole season of _Orange is the New Black_. He wandered back into the bathroom full of off-brand pop, rubbing his eyes from fatigue, and unzipped his pants. As he pissed, his eyes wandered over to the counter.

            A pink plus sign stared back at him.

 

Dean stood on the sidelines of the football game and watched as the kids ran from one end of the field to the other. Sam blew the whistle every few seconds, forcing them to switch directions rapidly. Dean wished he could say he didn’t mind – it was Sam’s job, Sam had to do his job – but he rarely told Sam he needed to talk. He rarely wanted to talk about anything. He thought maybe that warranted his brother’s full attention.

            After a few more whistle blows, Sam called them all to a stop and sent them off to run various drills on their own. As he walked back to Dean, he took off his cap and ran his hand through his hair. He offered Dean an apologetic smile. “Sorry. The first game that matters this season is Friday.”

            “It’s okay,” Dean said.

            Sam gave him an odd look. He clearly knew it _did_ matter but Dean didn’t want to fight about that. He didn’t want to fight about anything. He didn’t even want to explain the problem. He thought maybe the way he’d crossed his arms over his stomach would give it away, maybe the three layers of shirts he was wearing. He didn’t want to say the words out loud.

            “What’s up?” Sam said.

            Dean bounced on the balls of his feet and looked away. A cool breeze rippled through the air and a shout came from the other end of the field as one boy tackled another. Dean let out a big breath and said, “I’m pregnant.”

            Sam side-eyed him. “Get another abortion.”

            “I thought about that.” Dean tried not to bite his tongue off. He felt like during the last few days he was starting to wear a hole through his tongue, a thin groove, and eventually its tip would just fall off. “My doctor said there’s already... just so much scarring and he’s afraid if I get another abortion, I might not be able to have a baby.”

            Sam blew his whistle and shouted at some kids who had started a scrum without his permission. Dean held back a sigh until Sam turned back to him, eyes wide and curious. “Is that something you want?” Sam said. “Kids?”

            Dean shrugged. “Maybe? Once I’m ready to settle down.”

            Sam snorted. “Dean, you’re almost forty. If you haven’t settled down yet—”

            “I know,” Dean snapped. He felt bad about it immediately but Sam didn’t even flinch. He had squinted his eyes and was watching the defence line do crappy push-ups. Dean cleared his throat to get his attention again. “I might want kids someday. And if I can’t get pregnant, and my partner can’t get pregnant or doesn’t want to get pregnant, then... then what am I supposed to do if I’ve had so many stupid fucking abortions that I can’t do it again?”

            Sam’s eyes softened and he reached out to grip Dean’s shoulder. “There’s always adoption.”

            Dean let out a humourless laugh. “That would mean carrying this fucking thing for nine months.”

            “So?”

            “ _So_ ,” Dean said, “that would mean telling the father.”

            Sam frowned. “Who’s the father?”

            Dean looked away. He wanted to swallow his tongue. He wanted to rewind the conversation for a few minutes so he could come up with a better argument against adoption, against being pregnant for nine months, so that he didn’t wind up here. He closed his eyes for a second, willing the rewind into reality.

            “Who?” Sam repeated.

            Dean sighed and kicked the ground. “You don’t want to know.”

            “You didn’t.”

            Dean looked up. He wasn’t surprised Sam was furious – of course Sam was fucking furious. Cas was a friend of both of them. Cas’ kid was on the fucking football team. Cas had a boyfriend and a life and they’d had an unspoken agreement for some time that Dean wasn’t allowed to fuck up Cas’ life because of his libido. But he was surprised to find that Sam looked worried, scared even. It made his own fear bubble in his stomach.

            “Dean,” Sam said, steady, “tell me you didn’t.”

            “It seemed like a fucking good idea at the time, all right?”

            “And now what the fuck are you going to do?” Sam sighed and shook his head. “You had to fuck him and you couldn’t even be bothered with a condom and now you can’t get an abortion and what, Dean? Are you just going to tell him you’re carrying his baby? Because we both know _exactly_ what he’s going to do when he finds that out.”

            Dean swallowed hard. He did know exactly what Cas would do. Cas was a good guy. He’d married Kelly when she got pregnant. He had sat with Dean while he’d taken multiple pregnancy tests throughout his life. When he’d given Jack the birds and the bees talk, he’d reminded him several times to take responsibility for his actions – no matter how scary that was. Cas would give up his life for him in a second. He would give up his life for the baby.

            Dean opened his mouth, unsure exactly what he was going to say, when he noticed Jack standing a few feet away. He nodded his chin towards him and Sam turned.

            “What?” Sam snapped, harsher than usual.

            Jack flinched but then took a step forward. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He swallowed heavily. Dean wondered how much of the conversation he had heard. “But, uh...” He scratched the back of his neck. “Coach, you didn’t tell us what to do when we finished the drills? We were just... wondering.”

            Sam glanced over at Dean. Dean waved him on and Sam stepped out onto the field, clapping his hands and shouting to get everyone’s attention. But Jack stayed rooted to the spot, staring at Dean.

            “Go on,” Dean said. “You don’t want to get my brother pissed.”

            Jack nodded but still didn’t move.

            “What?”

            “I just...” Jack fiddled his thumbs and looked down at the grass. He took a deep breath. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d be a great dad.”

            Dean stared at him, unable to come up with the words to reply to that. Jack ran off before he thought of anything. Maybe he should have told him not to tell his father. Maybe he should have cleared up exactly what Jack had overheard. Fear and nausea rumbled in his stomach and, before Sam could return, Dean headed back to his truck.

 

Cas turned off the burners on the stove just as the garlic started to get that distinct burnt smell. He bit into his bottom lip and moved the pan. He told himself it would be fine. He told himself that a lot these days.

            He wiped off his hands on the kitchen towel as he tried to think about what he needed to do next. Set the table? Pour the milk? He couldn’t think over the racket of Jack’s music in the room above – Dean must have gotten him hooked on old rock music because that was the only decent reason for the absolute chaos of drums rattling through the walls. Cas sighed and picked up his phone. He sent Jack a quick text telling him to shut it the hell off and come down to dinner.

            Parker walked into the kitchen halfway through undoing his tie. He pressed a kiss to Cas’ cheek. “What’s for dinner, Cas?”

            “What’s it look like?” Cas snapped. Parker stepped away from him and Cas closed his eyes, biting back a sigh. “Sorry. Long day.”

            “Big sale?”

            “Ran out of ramen. And you know every university student in the world goes grocery shopping on fucking Wednesday.”

            “Swear jar,” Jack said as he walked into the kitchen. He reached around Cas and picked out a tomato from the stir fry. He popped it into his mouth, continued to speak as he chewed, “Unless I’m allowed to say fuck now.”

            “Swear jar,” Cas and Parker said in unison.

            “Him first.” Jack flopped down at the kitchen table.

            “I told you to set that,” Cas said.

            Jack looked back at him blankly as he started to butter a slice of bread.

            With a sigh, Cas slammed open a cabinet and pulled out the plates. He set the table efficiently, his fingers moving without his mind catching up to what he was doing, and then he doled out the food. Parker slumped into his chair, sighing as he brushed a hand through his close-cropped hair. Cas tossed the frying pan in the sink and then sat down himself before stabbing at the food.

            “Aren’t we going to say grace?” Jack said.

            “Shut up and eat,” Cas said. He didn’t bother to look up to see whatever expression Jack was giving him, whatever false shock was filling his eyes. Usually, when Jack was in a mood, Cas would take the time to coax it out of him, to get to the bottom of the problem, to make him feel better. But tonight, he didn’t even have the urge to do those things, just the nagging guilt that Kelly would want him to.

            Parker filled the silence by regaling them all with tales of the case he was working on. Cas let his voice float in one ear and out the other. The weird thing was, he didn’t even have anything on his mind. He couldn’t remember thinking all day. All he had was a layer of irritation on his skin like a thin shield from whatever real emotions he should be feeling. He packed food into his mouth without tasting it, without feeling it, and chewed dutifully.

            When Parker’s story finished, he smiled and looked around the table. “Anyone else want to share from their day?”

            Cas glanced over at him. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

            “It’s a little bitter.”

            “A lot,” Jack said.

            Parker shot him a disapproving look and then reached out to squeeze Cas’ shoulder. “Still good.”

            Jack grunted.

            “You two can cook any time,” Cas mumbled through a mouthful. He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want to get annoyed. A heavy sense of fatigue fell onto his shoulders and he felt he might collapse under its weight.

            “I have something interesting to share,” Jack said, sounding every bit like a defiant asshole.

            “If it’s rude, forget it,” Cas said. “And if it’s why you’re in such a bad mood, please get it the fuck off your chest so we can have a pleasant evening.”

            “Why are _you_ in a bad mood?” Jack countered.

            “I don’t know,” Cas replied honestly. He dropped his fork and swallowed the last bite in his mouth. Finally, he tasted it and they were both right – it was bitter. “Why are you in a bad mood?”

            Jack looked him in the eye. It felt like it was the first time he’d done it that night and it might have been. His eyes were soft and blue like Kelly’s and Cas immediately felt bad for snapping at him. He was a teenager. He had every right to act like an asshole. God knows Cas acted like Satan when he was Jack’s age.

            Cas reached forward and squeezed Jack’s hand where it lay on the table. “What’s up, buddy?”

            Jack clenched his jaw and shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense. It’s stupid.”

            Cas glanced towards Parker but Parker was already getting to his feet. He winked at Cas, patted Jack on the back, and then disappeared into the next room. After a few seconds, the soft static of the evening news floated back to them.

            “You wanna tell me now?” Cas asked.

            “It’s about Dean.”

            Cas resisted the urge to sigh. “What about Dean?”

            “It told you. It’s stupid.” Jack pulled his hand back and crossed his arms. “Can I go to my room now? I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want another lecture on how he’s not my dad and you’re sorry you let me feel that way but that I have to understand and—”

            “Jack,” Cas cut him off. He shifted, scraping the chair legs across the wood floors, and leaned forward. “You are my son and I love you. And if you don’t want me to say any of those things again, I won’t. I get that you see Dean as a father figure. It’s okay.”

            Jack chewed on his bottom lip. “Yeah. Okay.”

            “Can you tell me what happened?” Cas mentally ran through a quick list of all the things Dean could possibly do to upset Jack. He had a sneaking suspicion this was all his fault. No matter how cool Dean pretended to be about the whole thing, Cas knew something was wrong between them. “Did Dean... did he get mad at you?”

            “No. Nothing like that.”

            “Then what?”

            “I guess... I guess it just finally hit me today that he’s never going to be my dad. That you two aren’t in love and you never will be and that I’ll never have a normal fucking family.”

            Cas felt his heart stutter to a stop. He licked his lips. “Parker—”

            “Parker doesn’t give a shit about me,” Jack said. “Yeah, he’s nice enough and he buys me stuff, I guess, but he’s not my dad.”

            “You told him you didn’t need another one.”

            “Because I’ve got two!”

            Cas lost use of his tongue.

            A tear slipped out of Jack’s eyes and he brushed it away quickly. “Whatever,” he said, getting to his feet, sniffling. “It doesn’t matter anymore, does it? It’s not going to happen. You have Parker and Dean has whoever’s baby he’s having and I have no one.” He tossed his almost full plate into the sink, the porcelain shattering, and stormed out of the kitchen.

            Some part of Cas’ brain urged him to go after him. Kelly would never leave him like that, never let him go to bed angry, and the guilt of ignoring Kelly’s ghost ate away at his stomach. But Cas couldn’t move. He mentally rewound the days, followed the timeline, and tried to tell himself that there was no guarantee the baby was his. How many people would Dean have slept with in that time? But Cas knew better. He knew Dean had a girlfriend before him. He knew Dean had been busy after him. He knew.

 

“You’ve been quiet,” Parker said as he looked up from his book.

            Cas glanced up at him, struggling with all the words inside of him, all the things he needed to say, all the things he didn’t want to say. Parker looked so good there. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d entered his bedroom at night and Parker had already been there sitting, reading, his glasses halfway down his nose and his chest bare. Cas gave himself one last moment appreciating those abs.

            “I can put down the book, if you want.” Parker smiled.

            Cas wanted so badly to smile back. He so badly wanted easy back. Sure, Parker wasn’t perfect and he was never around but he was real and he loved him and he loved Jack. Cas hadn’t had anything so easy, so effortless, since he had Kelly. He missed it.

            Parker set down the book and leaned forward. He patted the mattress beside him. “What’s wrong?” he said. “You have that look on your face like when you ran over that cat.”

            “You said you’d stop reminding me of that.” Cas sighed and took a seat at the foot of the bed. He reached out on instinct and started to massage Parker’s feet. With a pleasurable sound, Parker leaned back into the pillow and let his eyes close. “I do need to talk to you,” Cas said.

            “So talk.”

            Cas bit his bottom lip. Even though Paker’s eyes were closed, he looked away from him. “Dean’s pregnant.”

            “And?”

            “And...” Cas tried to swallow the bile in his throat, the urge to vomit all over everything. He let Parker’s foot slip from his hands. “It’s mine.”

            A terrible silence followed. Cas could hear every sound the big house made – the creaks of the floorboards, the hum of the central heating, the ghost of Jack’s music in the next room. He could even hear Parker’s steady breathing. After what felt like a small eternity, Cas looked up to meet his boyfriend’s eyes.

            Parker was trying not to laugh.

            “You’re not mad?” Cas said.

            “That you’re banging Dean behind my back?” Parker chuckled and leaned forward. He took Cas’ face in his hands and kissed him. “You don’t think I’ve known that since I met the guy?”

            “I’m not...” Cas pulled away, shaking his head. “I’m not _banging_ Dean. It was once. One time. That’s it.”

            “Then how are you even sure it’s yours?”

            “I just... I am.”

            Parker let out a heavy exhale and shook his head but said nothing. His eyes flicked over to his book like the conversation was boring him and he’d rather be reading.

            Cas stared at him. “Are you seriously not upset?”

            “Should I be?”

            “I just told you I cheated on you, that I got another man pregnant, and you’re... laughing.”

            Parker shrugged. “We’re in an open relationship.”

            “We most certainly are not.”

            Parker stared at him for a long moment, seeming genuinely shocked for the first time that night. Cas felt his heart sink right into his feet. Parker moved his legs in, finally sitting upright, and said, “We _are_. We definitely are. Where do you think I am all the time? What do you think I do at night?”

            “You’re cheating on me?”

            “It’s not cheating! We’re gay.”

            “It’s still cheating!” Cas stood up abruptly and started to pace. He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I’m not... we’re not... that’s not who I am, Parker! I’ve always been a one person guy. I always will be. And you’ve been... you’ve thought... who else did you think I was sleeping with?”

            “Other than Dean?” Parker shrugged. “I just thought it was something we didn’t talk about. When I told you about Oliver, you said you didn’t want to hear about it and I just assumed—”

            “I thought Oliver was your ex!”

            Parker pursed his lips and swung his legs off the bed. Slowly, carefully, he padded across the floor to catch Cas as he paced. He placed his hands on Cas’ arms and started to rub them gently. “Look, I’m sorry. I honestly thought you knew. I thought we had an understanding.”

            Cas threw him off and took a step back. “That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting.”

            Parker sighed. “Plenty of people have open relationships.”

            “I have a son,” Cas said. “I had a wife. We have this house and a life and I thought...” Cas trailed off, swallowing all thought of engagements and marriages and more children with Parker. He couldn’t even feel his heart anymore. It was like it had gone numb. “I thought this was real.”

            “It is real.”

            “I’m not...” Cas sighed and buried his face in his hands. He forced himself to take a deep breath. “I’m sorry that I gave you the wrong impression. I’m sorry that I did whatever I did to make you think that this is what I want but it’s not what I want. I want monogamy and a marriage and a home for my son and I want to be a good example for him and I can’t... I can’t do this.”

            Parker frowned. “What do you mean?”

            “I mean I need you to leave.”

            Parker stared at him for a long moment, seemingly frozen in place. Cas wished he could freeze him in place, freeze this moment in place, go back in time and not even tell Parker about Dean. If he had swallowed his feelings and his thoughts and his beliefs, he could have kissed Parker’s chest and his lips and be well on his way to a good night’s sleep right now. Instead, he felt like he’d never sleep again. He already knew he’d spend the rest of the night re-examining his entire relationship with Parker, trying to see where he went wrong, what he’d done to give the impression that he wanted to be in an open relationship.

            Parker took a step back. He picked up his book. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll... I’ll sleep on the couch and I’ll be out by noon.”

            He was halfway out the door by the time Cas managed to mumble, “Thank you,” and he was gone before Cas fell asleep.

 

Dean rolled out from under the truck to take a breath of fresh air. He could feel his lungs working through the grease, his chest heaving. He had a momentary thought for the well-being of the baby but then he shook it off. It’s not like it mattered. Whether he wanted the thing or not, he couldn’t tell Cas so he couldn’t keep it.

            “Dean?”

            Speak of the devil.

            Dean turned his head towards the front of the garage and saw Cas’ silhouette framed in the midday sun. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes, took a deep breath to steady himself, and called out, “What? Needed to see me all sweaty to ruin those daydreams?”

            “Can you not joke?” Cas said.

            There was something about his voice that made Dean’s blood run cold. He dropped the wrench in his hand, sat up, and grabbed for the rag he’d set on the ground earlier. He wiped off his hands and then offered one to Cas. “Help me up?”

            Cas did so and then let go abruptly.

            Dean frowned at him. “What’s up?”

            “I don’t know why you didn’t tell me,” Cas said starting the conversation in the middle. Dean blinked, at a loss. Cas continued, “I don’t know why you think I wouldn’t want to know or that I wouldn’t help or that I wouldn’t... care.”

            “Can you be a little more specific?”

            “Dean, I don’t know what you want from me.” Cas sighed. “And I don’t even know what you think of me and it makes it really hard to be standing here asking if you’re okay, if you need anything, if you want me involved.”

            “Involved?”

            Cas bit his bottom lip.

            Dean shifted his stance, trying to catch Cas’ eye. When he couldn’t, he reached out and grabbed on to his shoulder, pulling him closer. Finally, Cas looked up at him with sad, wide blue eyes. Dean chuckled, to lighten the tension. “If you’re going to be mad at me, or whatever this is, can you at least let me know what it’s about?”

            “Jack told me.”

            “Jack told you what?”

            Cas took a deep breath and his face settled into hard lines. “That you’re pregnant.”

            Dean let his hand drop. Without really meaning to, he took a step back. “Oh. That.”

            “Yeah, that.” Cas stepped forward. Now he was trying to meet Dean’s eyes but Dean busied himself at the tool bench, trying to sort the hodgepodge of wrenches that his boss swore had rightful places on the hooks. Cas stopped a step or two behind him but Dean could still feel his presence, hear his breathing. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

            Dean shrugged. “Because it’s not a big deal? Because I don’t tell ninety percent of the guys who knock me up?”

            “I’m your best friend.”

            “So?” Dean turned around. He had forgotten to take a breath, forgotten to steady himself, and looking into Cas’ eyes, he knew he didn’t have complete control over his expression. He tried for cold, distant, but maybe he looked as scared as he felt. “Best friend or not, you were still just a one night stand. What would you care?”

            “I care.”

            “You said it was a mistake. You said forget about it.” Dean leaned back against the bench. “So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

            Cas stared at him for a long moment and then shook his head. “I didn’t do that alone. You agreed it was a onetime thing, that it could never happen again. We weren’t... we aren’t...” Cas swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

            “I don’t want anything from you. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

            “Well, tough shit. I’m your friend. I’m the father. I want to help.”

            “You have a life, Cas. You have a boyfriend.”

            “I don’t have a boyfriend anymore.”

            Dean felt a stupid spark of hope in his chest, something he knew he had to crush fast. He bit down hard on his tongue and summoned all the stupidity he had in him, all the anger. He channelled all his grief into madness and snapped, “So you found out I was pregnant and thought, what? ‘Better marry him, too. Better prove I’m a good fucking guy all over again.’ You thought, ‘I’ll just do the right thing and dump my boyfriend for my best friend who I fucked because he’s slutty and a good lay’? Was that your logic, Cas? You thought you’d just marry the next poor sap you knocked up?”

            Cas shook his head. “That’s not fair.”

            “Couldn’t marry Parker.” Dean threw his hands up. “Because he fucked you. And you can only marry people that you knock u—”

            Cas slammed Dean back into the tool bench, his hand half-wrapped around Dean’s throat, fire in his eyes. His teeth bared, he hissed, “Don’t you fucking dare talk about Kelly like that.”

            Dean shoved Cas off and straightened his shirt collar. “You know I’m right.”

            “You’re not right! Do you see me proposing? Do you see me down on one knee?” Cas shouted. He turned away for a moment, biting his fist. Dean could feel himself shaking, could feel hot tears in his eyes but he held them back by force of will. Cas let out a heavy breath. “So what if I want to do the right thing? You’re my best friend. I want to make sure you’re okay, that you’re taken care of. That’s all.”

            “I don’t want you to take care of me.” The lie sounded thin even to his own ears. “You have your own life, Cas. I don’t want to screw that up because we got drunk and fucked.”

            Cas deflated. Dean watched him do it, watched the anger leach out of him. He resisted the urge to rub the sore spot on his neck, to wring apologies out of Cas. Cas took one step forward, then another. “It’s not screwing up my life,” he whispered. “It’s whatever you want to do. I want to help.”

            “And what if I keep it? Then what?”

            Cas shrugged. “We figure it out.”

            “We co-parent?”

            “We did it with Jack.”

            Dean couldn’t stop the sob that broke through his chest. He turned away almost immediately but Cas’ hand touched his back and he had to close his eyes against it all. He shook his head. “I can’t, Cas. I can’t do it again. I won’t.”

            “Won’t do what?”

            “Play pretend.” Dean gasped out the words. He braced his hands against the tool bench and forced himself to breathe. He licked his lips. “How much of that night do you remember?”

            “All of it.”

            Dean refused to let his breath catch at that. He bent further into himself, forced his voice to steady. “So what do you think I meant when I said I couldn’t do this with you? That I’d been good about not doing it with you?”

            “That you hadn’t fucked me yet because we’re friends.”

            “I’d hadn’t fucked you yet because I’m in love with you.” Dean whirled around, the words leaving his lips before he could stop them. And when he saw the shock on Cas’ face, the ice in his expression, Dean’s brain whirled for ways to backpedal. But his lips kept moving. “Every day, every night, that I didn’t fuck you, was like this little victory because it meant I loved you enough to let you go. It meant I loved you enough that I didn’t have to fuck you, to have you. I could let you have a real life, have Kelly, have Jack, have Parker and you wouldn’t have to deal with me. Because we both know that in love or not, I can’t make shit work out in my life. I can’t fix anything, I can’t be anything, and I sure as hell don’t deserve you. So every time I didn’t do it, didn’t kiss you, didn’t touch you, it was a victory. It was how I knew somewhere, somehow, I was still a good guy deep down.”

            Cas licked his lips. “Dean...”

            “Don’t say it.” Dean scrubbed a hand down his face. “Because now I’ve fucking done it and what does that mean? It means I can’t even fucking love you right.”

            Cas opened his mouth again but nothing came out.

            Dean shook his head. “Don’t say anything, okay? Just leave. Just forget about it. Just do all the hundred things you said you were going to do the morning after when you broke my fucking heart.”

            Silence. Then, in the smallest voice Dean had ever heard, “I didn’t mean to.”

            Dean chuckled. “Yeah. I know.”

            Cas took a step backwards, towards the door of the garage, then stopped. “Are we... I mean...” He took a deep breath. “Are we still friends?”

            “I don’t know, Cas.”

            After what felt like an eternity, Cas gave a curt nod and turned for the door. Dean turned away, unable to watch him leave. Instead, he stared at his knuckles going white around the edge of the tool bench and counted his breaths, counted his heartbeats, just to remind himself he was still alive.

 

When Cas got home, he felt like he didn’t exist anymore. He went through the motions of shrugging off his jacket, hanging up his keys, and dropping his briefcase. He even remembered to change out of the grocery store vest and put it in the closet. But the whole time he couldn’t feel his fingers, couldn’t remember the last thing he did, couldn’t form a coherent thought. He ended up staring at the wall until Jack came home.

            He stared at the wall until a knock came at the door to his bedroom. He forced himself to blink. He ran a hand through his hair. With a sigh, he said, “Come in.”

            Jack poked his head in. “You didn’t pick me up after practice.”

            “Sorry.” Cas shot his son a weak, apologetic smile. His eyes glazed over him, not really seeing him, and for a painful second, he wished he looked more like Kelly. Jack looked so much like him that sometimes it was like looking at photos of his younger self. And he supposed Jack not looking like Kelly was a blessing, less painful, but sometimes he wished he could see her more clearly in her son.

            Jack took a step into the room, twisting his fingers. “Are you all right?”

            “You don’t have to worry about me.”

            “I know. But I do.” Jack looked around the room. “Haven’t seen Parker today.”

            “He’s gone.”

            Jack nodded slowly, his eyes still wandering around the space. It looked the same to Cas – same golden yellow walls, same white floral comforter, same cherry wood furniture – but Jack said, “It seems emptier,” and for the first time, Cas thought about how much stuff Parker had. His cologne was gone from the dresser, his brushes, his sprays. The books and reading glasses and old water cups he left on the bedside table were gone. His jackets on the back of the door, his slacks laid neatly on the back of the green armchair, his stupid collection of hats that he never wore, all gone.

            Cas saw the room through new eyes, saw how little of it was him, saw what people must think of him. He was empty and aimless and he had no obsessions, no habits, no signs he lived in a place. How could anyone love someone like that? How could someone as animated and alive as Dean love someone like him?

            “I heard some of the fight last night,” Jack said.

            Cas narrowed his eyes at him. “How much?”

            Jack shrugged. “Have you talked to Dean yet?”

            “Yes.”

            “And?” Jack brightened, the one word filled with so much hope and joy and inflection that Cas’ heart broke a little.

            He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He turned towards the dresser and looked in the mirror. He hated his reflection – the unshaven stubble, the dark circles under his eyes, the wrinkles creasing his forehead.

            “Why not?” Jack stepped forward. He still sounded happy. “If the baby is yours, if you slept with Dean—”

            “You heard what part of the conversation exactly?” Cas snapped, a little sharper than he intended.

            Jack barrelled forward. “I don’t see how this isn’t a good thing. You two are having a baby. You’re going to be a family, finally. How isn’t this a good thing?”

            “It doesn’t... work like that.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because we’re not together. Because we’re not in love.”

            “That’s just bullshit!” Jack shouted. He had the audacity to look outraged like Cas was hurting him, like Cas meant to do this to him. “You don’t love him? He practically lived here when I was a kid! I thought he was my goddamn dad!”

            “I’m sorry! How many fucking times do I have to tell you I’m sorry about that?” Cas felt the anger in his throat, in his stomach, like an acid eating away at his patience. He glared at his son, unable to control himself. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m sorry that letting Dean stay here, that letting him help raise you, made you think he was your dad. He’s not. He’s never going to be.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because he’s not my boyfriend.”

            “You fucked him!”

            “Unfortunately the world isn’t that cut and dry, Jack! Unfortunately not everyone I’m attracted to or everyone I fuck is going to become your father. Unfortunately that’s not the way the world works.” Cas huffed out a breath. “And I’m sorry you’re attached to him and I’m sorry this hurts you and I’m sorry you’re confused, but throwing this little hissy fit isn’t going to change things. He’s not going to be coming around here anymore.”

            Jack scoffed. “What? You knock a guy up and then you’re just no longer his friend? You’d ditch him like that? It’s not his fucking fault you can’t be bothered to use a condom.”

            “It wasn’t like that,” Cas hissed.

            “Then what was it like? What happened? What could he have done to make you be so fucking awful to a man you claim is your best fucking friend? A man who helped raise me? A man you fucked for fun while in a relationship with someone else? Good fucking example there, too, Dad. I’ll make sure to keep that one in mind when I—”

            “Shut up!” Cas yelled. He took a step towards Jack but stopped himself when Jack scrambled backwards too fast. Cas bit down on his bottom lip too hard and felt the skin tear. “You wanna know what happened? Dean said he loves me. He’s always loved me.”

            Jack stared at him for a long moment. Deflated, he whispered, “Then what’s the problem?”

            “I don’t love him,” Cas said. “Not like that.”

            “Bullshit.”

            “It’s not... it’s not bullshit, Jack.” Cas heaved in a breath and took a gentler step towards his son. Jack still backed off, crossing his arms against his chest and curling in on himself. “I married your mother because I loved her. I still love and miss her. I asked Parker to move in because I loved him. I wish I didn’t still love him.” Cas tried to bite back a sob but didn’t quite manage it. “I slept with Dean because... because it’s felt like something that’s needed to happen for my whole life. He’s attractive. I care about him. We’re both into men but... I don’t love him. I don’t want to be with him.”

            “Even if he has your kid?” Jack’s voice broke.

            Cas wanted to reach out to him, to hug him, but he just nodded. This part of Kelly he recognized in his son – the need to physically separate herself from the thing causing her pain. “I’ll help out if he wants to keep it. But I’m not... I can’t be with Dean.”

            “Why not?”

            “We have different lives.” Cas could hear the weakness of his own argument. He could feel his heart breaking and cracking with every lie he told. Of course he loved Dean. Of course he wanted to be with him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m not in love with him. I never will be.”

            Jack broke into a sob and his back hit the wall. Cas tried to step toward him, to comfort him, but Jack scrambled out of the room before he even got close. He slammed the door behind him. And Cas stood still, stood frozen, trying to convince himself that he was still doing what was best for his kid, what was best for him, what was best for Dean.

            Dean had been right. Loving him and staying away from him was the best thing he ever did. And Cas knew the best thing he could do was pretend that he didn’t love him back and let the whole thing get swept under the rug. In a week, Dean would have someone new. In a month, Cas would put himself back out there. In less than a year, Jack would be off at college and he wouldn’t need two dads anymore. He wouldn’t need any at all.

 

Dean stared at the unopen beer on the counter. If he opened it, he was aborting the baby. If he didn’t, he was keeping it. He had been staring at it so long beads of condensation dripped down the glass leaving a neat ring on the kitchen counter.

            A knock came at his door. Dean frowned. The bell from the outer door hadn’t gone off and he hadn’t buzzed anyone in. It happened sometimes – the college kids who lived in the building had drunk friends who apparently couldn’t read damn numbers when their vision went blurry. Dean continued his staring contest with the beer.

            Then the knocking came more rapidly. Dean sighed and turned away, ready to give the kids directions to wherever their asshole friends really lived. But when he opened the door, it wasn’t a pack of drunk college students. It was Jack with a stuffed backpack and tears trailing down his cheeks.

            Before Dean could get a word out, Jack said, “Can I come in? There’s someone screaming down the hall.”

            Dean poked his head out and heard the echoes. He swore and ushered Jack into his apartment before shutting the door and locking it. “Don’t worry about it,” he said as he turned back to Jack. He swiped his hands over his lips. “It’s just Jerry. He’s a bit of a mental case.”

            “Shouldn’t he be in the hospital?”

            Dean shrugged. “Shouldn’t you be in school? Or...” He glanced up at the microwave clock, astounded by how much time he had wasted. The whole apartment was getting dark, the sun long gone, and Dean flicked a light switch. “At home?”

            “I ran away.”

            Dean snorted his laugh. He couldn’t quite make the actual sound as he reached for his phone. “Good move, kid. Run away to the one person guaranteed to call your dad the second you show up. Great plan.” His thumb flicked over to Cas’ name.

            “You’d still call him?” Jack said. “After everything?”

            Dean raised his eyes to look at the kid. He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re his kid and you ran away.”

            Jack shrugged. “He knocked you up and now you’re not speaking.”

            Dean locked his phone but kept it in the palm of his hand as his lips thinned into a line. He stared at Jack for a long moment. “How’d you know that?” he said. “Did he tell you?”

            “Sort of. I kinda just put it together.”

            Dean sighed. “Is that why you ran away?”

            “I guess.” Jack shifted from one foot to the other. “I just wanted to know what you two were gonna do about the baby and he started shouting at me, saying you’re not my father, that you two aren’t going to be together just because I want you to be, that he doesn’t love you.” Dean flinched and Jack added, “I don’t believe that last part.”

            Dean flipped his phone over in his hand. “He has a right to be mad. You can’t just make adults do what you want them to.”

            “Why not? They’re always trying to make me do what they want.”

            “Touché.”

            Jack looked around the room, his eyes wandering from one corner to the next, cataloguing the place. His eyes rested on the beer. “You know you can’t drink when you’re pregnant, right?”

            “I do.”

            “Can I have it then?”

            “And I’ll explain to Cas why you’re drunk?” Dean brushed past him and picked up the beer. He swung open the door to the fridge and placed it carefully inside. “Nice try, kid.”

            “Did you know my mom?”

            Dean turned to him, silent.

            “Dad never really talks about her,” Jack said. “Even after he sat me down and explained you weren’t my dad, that I had a mom, he never really... told me about her. I have those videos she made. I guess she was really sick when she was pregnant with me but... they’re mostly just her telling me I’m a good person, that she can feel it. I think she was... she was kinda losing it at that point.”

            “Yeah,” Dean said. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He thought Cas had had it a long time ago. Biting his bottom lip, he turned back to the fridge and brought the beer back out. He slid it across the counter to Jack. “Sit down.”

            Jack took a seat on one of the stools and fiddled with the beer. He didn’t open it or ask for a bottle opener as Dean paced the small kitchen space before settling to stand in front of Jack.

            “Kelly was a sweet girl,” Dean said. “A little religious, a little rebellious. A bit of a preacher’s daughter fantasy.” He swallowed hard and looked down at the counter. “Cas met her in a religious studies class and he loved her before he even knew her name. Said it felt like... destiny.”

            Jack placed his hand over Dean’s. “Is this hard for you to talk about?”

            Dean smiled and shook his head. “Kelly was the right person for your dad. She was happy and motivated and a little crazy. When she found out she was pregnant... she had named you before the timer was even up on the test. And then she started getting ready for you to come into the world before her first trimester was over, even though all the doctors told her not to. She was at high-risk for a miscarriage because of some family history. Cas was worried sick about her. He wanted... he begged her to rethink keeping you. Not because he didn’t want you but because he didn’t want to lose Kelly.”

            Jack swallowed hard. He pulled away, cracked the top of the beer, and said, “I didn’t know that,” before guzzling down a quarter of the bottle’s contents.

            Dean pulled the bottle away gently. “He loves you so fucking much, Jack. Kelly loved you more than anything in the world and Cas wouldn’t dare resent you when it wasn’t what she wanted.”

            Jack nodded shakily.

            “She was on bed rest by her fourth month of pregnancy. And by the fifth, she was talking about how you were a powerful prophet and the son of an angel.” Dean swallowed. “The psychiatrists couldn’t find the right mix of pills that put you at little enough risk that she would take them. By the last trimester, she was so sick she could barely move. She ate only because she knew you needed the nutrients. I... I spent every fucking night at your house because Kelly wouldn’t sleep and Cas couldn’t stop crying and it was the hardest fucking month of my life.”

            Dean blinked back the tears in his eyes. “When she died... you weren’t born yet. I know Cas always said she died in labour, after labour, whatever. But she died about a week before your due date. They cut you out of her.”

            Dean took Jack’s hand again and squeezed it tight. “Breathe,” he reminded him. “I didn’t stay to take care of you because I wanted to or Cas asked me to help. I mean, of course I wanted to, but... Cas wasn’t getting out of bed when you were crying. He couldn’t feed you. He was scared to touch you.”

            “He didn’t want me,” Jack whispered.

            “No. No, not at all.” Dean licked his lips, trying to think of the way to explain it, trying to remember how Cas had explained it to him. “He thought if... if he did it wrong, if he held you wrong, if he fed you wrong... he was terrified he was going to kill you. He was so scared to do it wrong because he knew Kelly had died for you. She loved you more than she loved herself and he wasn’t going to be able to forgive himself if he fucked you up, if he hurt you. So I bought him the books, showed him the YouTube tutorials, taught him how I raised Sam. And that’s why I didn’t leave before you were old enough to try to figure things out, old enough to think I was your dad, your family. Because Cas was scared. And I didn’t take care of Kelly, I didn’t protect her. I didn’t think I could. Maybe I couldn’t have. But I could protect you. I could stop Cas from losing you.”

            Dean’s throat felt dry and his eyes felt wet. He was aware he was gripping Jack’s fingers too tight but he couldn’t let them go. A weight had settled on his heart but it also felt like a different one had lifted.

            “You really do love him,” Jack said. “Don’t you?”

            “Of course.” Dean smiled. “I’m always going to love him.”

            “And you’re going to have his baby?”

            “Maybe.”

            Jack nodded. “I know you’re mad at him. I know you... can be mad at him. That you have a reason to be. But... I think you need to forgive him. I think you need to invite him in. I don’t think he’s going to come to the right conclusion on his own.”

            “And what’s the right conclusion?”

            “That he loves you. That he wants this.”

            Dean shook his head. “He doesn’t.”

            “He does.” Jack took another sip of the beer. “I think he’s just... he’s afraid you’re gonna replace my mom. I think that’s the only reason he asked you to leave in the first place.”

            Dean considered that. He’d never thought about it that way. He just thought he’d run out of usefulness, that Cas had stopped being scared, that Cas didn’t want his son thinking he was his dad. Slowly, Dean nodded and stood up to his full height, his hand slipping from Jack’s. “I’m gonna call him now.”

            “Okay.”

            “Don’t move.” Dean stepped out of the kitchen and hit Cas’ number. He held the phone to his ear and held his breath.

            “Dean,” Cas said, sounding relieved and stressed all at the same time. “Now’s not really a good time.” Doors slammed on the other end of the line. Floorboards creaked under Cas’ feet.

            “He’s here,” Dean said.

            “What?”

            “Jack.” Dean swallowed. “He’s here. He showed up... twenty minutes ago. I would have called sooner, I just—”

            “Fuck.” Cas let out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Dean. I know you don’t... I mean, I know...” He groaned. “Look. I can be there in ten minutes to pick him up.”

            Dean hesitated. “Don’t.”

            “What?”

            “Look, every time my dad found Sam two seconds after he ran away, he wouldn’t stick around very long. Give the kid a while to cool off. He can crash on the couch.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you in the morning.” Dean hung up the phone before Cas could protest or apologize or thank him. Hearing Cas’ voice was hard enough right now without it being breathless and broken. He turned back into the kitchen to see Jack watching him, the beer in his hands but still nearly full.

            “Thanks,” Jack said, quiet. “I’ll stay out of your hair.”

            Dean shook his head. He stepped forward and tousled Jack’s hair. “For the record, kid, I really do wish I was your dad. I just don’t think it’s ever gonna happen.”

 

Cas’ hands shook as he hit the buzzer on Dean’s apartment building. It was early still – the sun had just come up and birds were singing – but Cas had to be at work in an hour and Jack needed to go to school. The door buzzed in return and he let out a sigh of relief – part of him hadn’t believed Dean would be awake this early.

            He made his way up the familiar staircase. The place hadn’t changed since he’d helped Dean move in eleven years ago. The same dings were still in the walls, plus a couple new ones. The lights still crackled overhead like a fire hazard waiting to happen. Cas resisted the urge to reach out and tighten a light bulb shaking in its socket; with his luck, he’d probably be electrocuted on the spot.

            He paused at Dean’s door. He remembered shutting it behind him that first night, pausing and realizing he’d made a huge mistake. What did Cas know about being a single father? What would he ever do without Dean? Had he really panicked so badly when Jack called Dean “dad” that he’d wanted him out of the house, out of his life, away from everything? Suddenly, Cas couldn’t make himself knock.

            The door flew open. Dean held up a hand to Cas before he even got a word out and said, “Look, I’m not gonna lie, I did a bad thing. But in my defence, your kid’s a fucking lightweight.”

            Cas blinked. “What?”

            “I let him have a beer and now he’s vomiting up his stomach contents like he got high on acid at a Pink Floyd concert.”

            Panic and silence and worry washed over Cas in a big wave. Then, despite himself, he laughed. “Really? One beer?”

            “He didn’t even finish it.”

            Cas laughed harder and leaned his weight into the door frame to hold himself up. Dean smiled back at him and for one, beautiful moment, Cas forgot how awkward this was supposed to be. He forgot what Dean had told him, that Jack had ran away from home, that he needed to get to work soon. He laughed until the sound left him, then took a deep breath and smiled. “You’re a horrible baby-sitter.”

            Dean shrugged. “I was the perfect baby-sitter when he was little. Now I can at least be the cool uncle.”

            “Parent,” Cas corrected. “You’re the cool parent.”

            Dean looked at him with something between confusion and sadness.

            “I’m sorry,” Cas said, “and not just for... knocking you up and abandoning you and then acting like it was some sort of stupid obligation to take care of you. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the credit for raising Jack. I’m sorry I was such a fucking mess after Kelly died. I’m... I’m sorry I ever asked you to move out.”

            Dean shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “It was the right move.” He glanced over his shoulder as if hoping Jack would appear and cut the conversation short.

            Cas hoped the opposite. “Have you made a decision? About the baby?”

            “Yeah.” Dean rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “I’m gonna keep it.”

            Cas nodded.

            “And, uh, ‘cause I guess you’re going to be around and all, and you’re my best friend, and this is really fucking stupid.” Dean took a deep breath and stepped back into the apartment. He gestured for Cas to come in and then closed the door behind them. Without looking back at Cas, without moving away from the door, he finished, “You can help out.”

            “It’s the least I can do,” Cas said, looking around like he’d never been in the apartment before. He just didn’t know where to look anymore. He didn’t know where was safe. “After all, you helped me out.”

            Dean smiled and Cas met his eyes. For a second, they were silent, just staring at each other, and then they fell over each other trying to apologize. Cas knew he was repeating himself, saying things he already said as he approached Dean again, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to hear Dean say he was sorry for what he said or what he did or how he was ruining his life. He wasn’t ruining his life. He never could. But he didn’t have the words for that.

            Cas took Dean in his arms and hugged him tight. The air went out of both of them – their words cut off short – and Cas breathed in the scent of him. For once, he smelled like soap instead of grease. He pulled him in tighter, loving the feel of his arms around him, and buried his face into the crook of Dean’s neck. When he closed his eyes, he felt like he could stand there forever.

            Jack cleared his throat.

            Cas pulled back to look at him and let a smile fall across his lips. He knew some smartass comment was on his son’s lips but instead of waiting for it, he stepped towards him and hugged him as well. He kissed the top of his head. “You had me worried sick.”

            Jack grumbled as he tried to push him off. “I’m still mad at you.”

            “I know,” Cas said. “I’ll make it up to you.”

            “Breakfast?” Jack said hopefully.

            Cas sighed. “You have school. I have work.”

            “Call in sick,” Dean said. He slapped Cas on the back and then pulled him close with one arm. He really did smell good. He looked better. Cas heard his stomach grumble. “We can go to that diner on the corner you like.”

            “Dad likes a diner?” Jack said.

            “Oh yeah,” Dean said. “It used to be the only place you’d fall asleep.”

            Jack smiled a little. “The place with the yellow walls and those fly-infested lights?”

            Cas nodded. “Yeah. That one.”

            “Seems unsanitary.”

            Cas and Dean laughed. With limited commotion, they all made it out the door and started the walk down the street. Jack chattered along the way, mostly to fill the air. Cas assumed it was because he didn’t want to talk about his punishment for running away from home. He didn’t mind. Sometimes, when Jack went on like this, he could imagine Kelly was still around, telling him all the facts he didn’t know at a rapid-fire pace.

            He felt his throat getting tight as he watched the back of Jack’s head. He was two or three feet in front of them, taking long strides on his short legs. Cas reached out and took Dean’s hand in his. He didn’t know why. Their fingers curled together and he squeezed. He thought, maybe, things would be okay.

 

Cas had thought Kelly’s pregnancy was bad. In reality, Kelly’s pregnancy had been bad for _her_. Dean’s pregnancy was bad for _everyone_. He called at two a.m. craving ice cream and too lazy to get out of bed. He spent a whole day reading pregnancy books and then would recite facts from them with Jack like they were both studying for a test. He had vitamin schedules and colour-coded charts for what should happen when – though Cas questioned whether Dean had made those himself or Sam had put them together on his computer. And every once in a while, when a request was too outlandish or Dean hesitated before getting the words out, he got the distinct impression Dean was fucking with him for the hell of it.

            At three months, Cas managed to get Dean to agree to move in. They moved him into the guest bedroom and transformed Parker’s old office into a nursery. And Cas continually woke up to Dean in his shower, shirtless Dean wandering the halls, midnight snack Dean in nothing but his boxers. And in love or not, Cas was only a man with eyes.

            Dean got really horny in his fifth month of pregnancy. Cas didn’t notice it at first – the looks and flirtatious greetings were par for the course with Dean, always had been – but then he met him in the kitchen at one a.m. And Dean leaned against his shoulder, his lips pressing kisses into the fabric of his t-shirt, and he looked up at Cas with puppy dog eyes. And Cas, being but a weak man with eyes, kissed him.

            For as long as they could, they kept it a secret from Jack. Sneaking around in his own house was something Cas was unwaveringly fond of. The stolen touches, the kisses, sneaking Dean into his bedroom late at night. He thought they were getting away from it until one night when they were watching a movie as a family and Dean put his head on his shoulder. Cas thought it was innocent enough until Jack said, “If you guys are gonna be gross, like always, leave the room.” Dean had laughed and given Cas a kiss while Jack faked disgust.

            Cas still felt a distance between them even as Dean’s belly grew, even when he woke to the soft look in his eyes, even when they traded lazy kisses before brushing their teeth. He felt the baby kick against the palm of his hand. He saw Jack happier than he ever had been. He still felt like something was missing.

            Braxton Hicks hit them early. Too early. Cas panicked and drove Dean to the hospital at five in the morning. He tried to argue with the doctor that he didn’t _care_ they were Braxton Hicks contractions – Dean was only eight months along, something was _wrong_ – but the doctor wouldn’t hear him. Dean kissed his neck and told him everything was fine, to just breathe, but the fear ate Cas up inside.

            He recognized this distance like a shot to the heart. As he drove home with Dean holding his hand, he was shaking. By the time he parked the car, he was crying. Without a word, Dean pulled him into his arms and kissed his hair, waiting in the silence for an explanation.

            All Cas could manage was, “I can’t lose you too.”

            “You’re not going to lose me,” Dean said but Cas knew he couldn’t promise that.

            Dean went into labour a week early. Cas kept himself together long enough to get to the hospital, to hand him over to the doctors, and then he left the room immediately. His legs gave out under him and he started to cry in earnest. Footsteps approached him but he didn’t look up. A body settled beside him and then Jack’s hands curled over his.

            “It’s going to be okay,” Jack whispered.

            Cas shook his head. “You don’t know that.”

            “You know,” Jack said, “mom would want us to pray.”

            Cas started crying harder and Jack began to mutter a prayer under his breath, keeping the words steady and clear. He pressed his fingers harder against Cas’ hands until Cas caught his breath and started to speak the words with him. Slowly, his breath steadied and the words came easier, rhythmically, to his tongue. When they finished, Jack said, “Amen,” then added, “Mom? Please help us keep Dean.”

            Cas turned his head and kissed Jack’s temple hard, pulling his son into his side as he cried.

            Soon, they went in to see Dean who was swearing at the nurses while eating ice chips. When he saw Cas, he said, “Babe, please tell them I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

            Cas chuckled and took his hand. “You can’t eat now.”

            “Fuck you.”

            Cas leaned down and kissed him. He felt calm spread through him and he whispered, “I love you.”

            Dean stared at him for a long moment. Surprise was evident in his features, the fight gone out of him for a moment. Then the contractions hit and he was swearing again and he bit out, “Do you really think now is the best fucking time to tell me that? Couldn’t have done it a week ago? A month ago? When I got pregnant with your stupid baby?”

            Cas laughed.

            “Don’t laugh at me,” Dean bit out.

            “Breathe,” Cas said.

            Jack imitated the Lamaze breathing and slowly, begrudgingly, Dean copied it. When the contraction passed, he leaned back into the bed and closed his eyes. “I love you, too,” he whispered. Cas kissed him again.

            Two days passed with Dean in labour. Cas alternated between sleeping half on Dean’s bed and dozing in the waiting room with Jack. They ate shitty cafeteria food and listened to Dean complain about ice chips. Jack went home to grab clothes and magazines and his laptop. Sam showed up halfway through Day Two with cigars for when the baby was born. Dean laughed even as Cas frowned at both of them and then sternly told Jack he was not allowed to smoke.

            “Come on,” Dean whined. “Just one, babe. For the baby.”

            “No,” Cas said. “That’s stupid.”

            Then Dean kissed him and nothing felt all that stupid anymore.

            The birth went smoothly – or as smoothly as it could go with Dean swearing at everyone and crushing Cas’ fingers in his hand – but both parent and baby were safe, happy, and healthy. Cas cried for an hour after the doctor told him everything was fine and Jack brought him back with prayers, thanking Kelly for helping them out.

            Cas went in to see Dean and their new baby girl. Dean looked up at him with a soft smile and shifted to let Cas sit beside him on the bed. Cas curled up next to him, leaned against his shoulder, needing contact, needing to make sure that Dean was real, that he was alive. He felt the final pieces of the wall break away, the last of the distance between them snap. He reached out and smoothed down the few strands of thin blonde hair on his daughter’s head. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you both.”

            Dean kissed the side of his head. “I love you both, too.”

            “What are we going to call her?”

            “Hear me out,” Dean whispered. Cas looked into his eyes, saw the soft smile on his face. “You see, I had this sense during my pregnancy, every time anything went wrong, that Kelly was watching over us. That she didn’t want anything bad to happen to you ever again. And I thought, since she did that for us, maybe we could name the baby after her.”

            Cas couldn’t blink through his tears. He tried but everything remained blurry. Not trusting his voice, he nodded and pressed a kiss to Dean’s shoulder.

            “Kelly,” Dean repeated softly. He pulled the baby closer, kissed the top of her head. “Welcome to the family.”


End file.
